How To Make A Bad Boy Smile
by Thisismyusernamelol
Summary: Kim's new and Jack is a bad boy at her school. Jack is always somber and hostile. Nobody has ever seen him smile or laugh. Kim's new friends challenge her to befriend him and break down his walls to make him smile. But in the process, she has to open up and discover something about her own past to gain his trust. Will she succeed? Or will one of them be left with a broken heart?
1. Chapter 1: Just a Social Experiment

I walk into my new school for the first time. As I walk through the doors and hear wolf whistles and catcalls. Now I'm starting to feel self conscious about the outfit I chose. I'm wearing light wash skinny jeans with a fitted black spaghetti strap tank top and black old skool vans. It's really plain, so why am I getting so much attention? I ignore the obscene comments and find my way to the office to get my schedule. They give me my schedule and my textbooks. I look for my locker so I can put my books away.

My locker is number fifty four. I walk down the hall reading the locker numbers out loud. "Forty eight, forty nine, fifty, fif—"

I walk into someone and all my books fall on the ground. One falls on his foot.

"Oops," I mumble. I look up to see a boy looking at me with a stone cold glare. I choke on air when I look into his eyes. He's really handsome, but in an intimidating way. His hazel eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched. There's something about his shaggy brown hair and those two moles on his cheeks that makes my heart flutter.

"Watch where you're going, blondie," he growls. He roughly bumps into my shoulder as he walks past me and into the sea of students walking through the halls. I shrug it off and find my locker. I put my books in, except for the ones I need for my first class: math. Then I close my locker and hook on the lock the receptionist gave me. I find my math classroom and see a teacher grading papers at her desk.

"Hi, Mrs. Proctor?" She looks up and smiles at me.

"How may I help you?"

"I'm Kim Crawford. I'm a new student. I just wanted to introduce myself before class."

She smiles and stands up to shake my hand. "That's very polite of you. It's nice to meet you, Kim."

I smile and the bells rings. Slowly students begin filling their seats and she looks at her seating chart. Okay, there's an empty seat here in the front," she points at a desk, "or there in the back." She points to a seat in a corner in the back. I take the seat in the front. I'm not a nerd, but the people who sit in front are nerds. My strategy for school is this: surround yourself with nerds. You'll get better grades because 1. They won't distract you 2. They'll explain anything you don't understand and 3. When you're partners they do all the work because they don't want you to make any mistakes and mess up their grade. A tall thin nerdy looking redhead sits next to me and turns to face me.

"Hi, I'm Milton. You must be the new student." He seems pretty friendly.

I smile and say, "I'm Kim. It's nice to meet you Milton."

The teacher begins taking attendance. I zone out until she raises her voice.

"Brewer? Jack Brewer?" She looks around the room and mumbles, "He's probably tardy again."

When she's done with attendance someone casually walks in and takes an empty seat in the back. It's the boy I bumped into earlier. Now I notice his clothes. He's wearing a black leather jacket, a dark gray hoodie underneath it, black pants, and black vans. Wow. Dark.

"Ah, Jack, I'm glad you could join us. That's your second tardy this week. You have detention after school today," She says in a disappointed tone.

He just slightly nods his head.

After the lesson we have to work on practice problems. I have to ask Milton for help and he's getting impatient with me.

"I still don't understand when to use sine and when to use cosine!" I say.

He rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. "I just explained it!"

I can see Mrs. Proctor walking over to us. "Kim, do you need help?"

I nod and I expect her to help me but instead she calls Jack over. "Jack is already done with the worksheet and he got everything right, so he can help you."

Jack looks at her and furrows his eyebrows. "I never said I would help her."

She looks at him and raises her eyebrows and gives him a 'you can't talk to me like that' look. He rolls his eyes and walks over to my desk. He kneels down and folds his arms on my desk.

"Are you confused about whether to use sine or cosine?" He asks, looking at the paper.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I don't know why, but a lot of people get confused by this. So, technically, you can use either one. But I choose based on the graph. So, for this problem, I would choose sine, so the equation would look like this." He takes my pencil and writes the equation. "If you were to use cosine everything would stay the same except variable C, since cosine starts at the minimum while sine starts at the midline. So it would be X minus two instead of X minus zero. So you can see how you choose based on what's more convenient to write. It doesn't really matter though because both of these equations are right." He talks with a monotone voice, like he's bored and tired of everyone being so stupid compared to him. He seems to think it's so simple and easy.

"Oh," I say, "That makes perfect sense. Thanks."

He doesn't respond, he just walks away and goes back to his seat. Wow, so friendly.

I walk into the cafeteria and look for a seat. Milton waves me over to his table and he introduces me to his friends. There's a Latino kid named Jerry with dark curly hair. Next to him is Eddie, a pudgy African American kid.

"Hi Kim," Eddie says dreamily.

Jerry cocks an eyebrow and smirks, saying, "What it do girl?"

I glare at him and say, "If _it_ is _me_ then what _it_ do is give you a black eye if you don't stop hitting on me."

Jerry swallows, his eyes wide, and nods his head. "Lo siento, mamacita," he mumbles.

"So how do you all know each other?" I ask.

"We all do karate together," Eddie says.

"At the Bobby Wasabi Dojo," Milton adds.

"Oh, maybe I'll join," I say.

"Uhh no offense Kim, but what do you know about karate?" Jerry asks.

"I'm a black belt," I announce proudly. "Second degree."

I could literally see their eyes popping out of their sockets. "Rudy will flip out when you join the dojo!" Jerry says in excitement.

"You mean pass out," Eddie corrects.

"Who's Rudy?" I ask.

"Our sensei," Eddie responds.

"Do you guys know what this means?" Milton asks.

When nobody responds, he says, "The dojo doesn't have to close if Kim joins! And we'll finally stand a chance against the Black Dragons!" Milton explains.

"Why was the dojo going to close? And what are the Black Dragons?" I question.

"Our dojo is the worst one in the Bobby Wasabi chain. They're going to shut us down unless we earn two belts at the next tournament. But we can't participate unless we have four members." Milton explains. "The Black Dragons are our rivals. They always pick on us and cause us bodily harm."

"I thought you knew karate; why don't you fight back?" I ask.

"We're yellow belts," Eddie says sadly.

"And their whole crew is better than us so they use that against us. Except Jack—yo, he may be a Black Dragon, but he's not as messed up as the rest of them. He doesn't pick on us," Jerry says.

"Jack who?" I'm pretty sure I know which Jack, but I want to make sure.

"Jack Brewer. Most popular guy in school, long brown hair, two moles, oh, and he has a sweet motorcycle!" Jerry says, becoming enthusiastic about the bike.

"Oh, I met him today. I bumped into him in the hall and he got kind of mad."

"Yeah, he's not someone you want to mess with. He's a total bad boy," Jerry says.

Milton leans in and adds in a hushed voice, "And he's always really somber. Nobody has ever seen him smile. Not even his friends. He smirks sometimes but never laughs or smiles."

"Why?" I ask.

"Nobody knows. That's how he's always been," says Eddie, who then nods his head at a group of guys at another table. I look over and see Jack who is staring at me.

"Yo, Kim he's checking you out," Jerry whispers.

"Why are you so excited about that?" I ask.

Milton leans in and whispers, "He almost always ignores girls. When he first came to this school, girls were throwing themselves at him. But he told them he wasn't interested and now people think he might be gay."

"Or asexual," Eddie adds.

"Maybe he's not checking me out. He's probably just zoning out and his eyes happen to be looking in my direction."

"Yo, let's find out. Smile at him and see what he does," Jerry says.

I give him a friendly smile and he nods his head the way guys do when they say hi. His face is expressionless.

"Remind me again why he's the most popular guy in school?" I ask.

"Well, the Black Dragons are the popular kids and he's kind of the leader of their group." Milton explains.

"Which is weird, because he seems like he hates them. He sits with them at lunch but never talks and seems kind of miserable," Eddie says.

"Maybe it's because they're not good friends. You guys are nice though. Why don't you invite him to sit with us?" I ask.

All three boys shake their heads fervently. "We're afraid of him. You never know how he'll react. He's really unpredictable," Eddie says.

"He's so mysterious. And his leather jacket and his motorcycle…"

"Jerry, do you have a crush on him?" I ask.

"No, I don't have a crush on him!" He then quietly mumbles, "I just wanna be him."

"You know what would be a cool experiment?" Milton asks.

"Putting a spider monkey and a giant crab in a cage and making them fight," Jerry says.

"No."

"Making turtles race?" Eddie asks.

"No!"

I come up with a good idea. "A hotdog eating competition between a crocodile and a giraffe!"

"NO! First of all, giraffes don't eat meat. And second, the crocodile would eat the giraffe! What is it with you people and competitions between animals?" Milton sighs in frustration. "I'm talking about a social experiment."

"Ohhhh," we all say.

"So you know what I'm talking about?"

"No."

"Nope."

"No idea."

Milton rolls his eyes. "Okay, I'll just tell you."

"Good idea," Jerry says.

"We should see if we can make Jack smile. But not all of us, or it might be suspicious. I nominate Kim."

"Why me?" I ask.

"One: You're a happy little ray of sunshine. Two: You're new. If any of us started trying to be friendly with him out of the blue it would be suspicious. Three: You totally have a crush on him," Milton says.

"I do not have a crush on him!"

"Mmmhmmm," They all mumble sarcastically, unconvinced.

"Anyway, Kim, do you think you can do it?" Milton asks.

I smirk. "I know I can."


	2. Chapter 2: Remembering

**AN: I just realized I didn't put an author's note in the first chapter. Oops. The more you read, the more interesting this will get. With each chapter the plot thickens.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin it.**

The final bell rings and I quickly get the books I need from my locker. Now commencing part one of the plan. I take a deep breath and fix my hair before approaching Jack at his locker.

"Uh, hey," I say awkwardly.

He turns to me and folds his arms across his chest. When I see his face I feel like I can't breathe. His face is structured so perfectly, and his eyes, and his hair, and everything about him makes my heart race. His face is hostile, which makes him even more intimidating. I clutch my books to my chest and say, "Uh, so, I was wondering if maybe… uh—"

"If you're trying to ask me out I'm not interested," he says bluntly.

I furrow my brows. "No, I just want you to tutor me for the math test on Monday."

"But today's Friday."

"And?" I ask, squinting my eyes and tilting my head.

"I don't want to spend my weekend doing more school-related stuff than I already have to," he says coldly.

"Please? Just for like an hour?" I beg.

He rolls his eyes and says, "Why don't you ask your nerd friend?"

"Milton? He's too smart. I don't understand half the words he uses when he tries to explain things," I say desperately.

"I'm not a tutor. I don't care how well you do on your stupid test." Wow, rude. I shrug it off and roll my eyes.

"What if I give you ten bucks?"

"Twenty."

"Okay, twenty."

He draws in a deep breath and sighs out, "Deal."

"Okay, great, thank you, let me just," I say, looking through my backpack, "find my phone so I can get your number… I can't find it…" I look back up at him awkwardly.

He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone and adds a new contact, handing it to me so I can enter my number. I quickly type it in and hand it back. I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something, but he just stares at me. I feel my cheeks heat up and awkwardly say, "So…"

"So…" he says, mocking me. "Go on. Leave." He shoos me away and my cheeks are burning from embarrassment. Why am I so awkward around him?

I step into the shower in the girl's locker room in the dojo for the first time. I'm surprised when the shampoo actually smells good. Like strawberries. And the body wash smells like peaches. I massage the soap over my muscles that were sore from my first practice at the dojo. I joined today and Eddie was right when he said that Rudy would pass out. He's a strange man-child but I like him. He seems… interesting.

When I'm done with my shower I change into clean sweatpants and a tank top. I zip up a hoodie over my tank and wring my wet hair out with a towel. My phone buzzes and I check it to see a new message.

 _Hi Cam. This is Jack. Call me when you get this._

He doesn't even know my name? I scoff and add him to my contacts before calling him.

 _"Hello?"_

Wow. His voice is really deep… and hot.

"Hi. You wanted me to call you?"

 _"Yeah. I can come over and tutor you right now."_

"Now? I'm not home yet."

" _Will you be home soon?"_

"Uhh, yeah, but… um, could you give me a ride?"

Silence for several seconds

" _No_."

No explanation? Just 'no'?

"Then I won't be home until around nine because that's when my mom can pick me up."

" _I really just want to get this over with right now."_

"Then I need a ride."

" _Are you okay with riding on a motorcycle?"_

"Yeah, that's not a problem."

" _Where are you?"_

"The Bayview mall."

" _I'll be there in like ten minutes."_

"Thanks. Um, bye."

 _Beep beep beep._

He didn't even say bye. He just hung up. Now I'm nervous. He doesn't even know my name! And I'm so awkward around him! And he's obviously not interested in me! What did I get myself into?

I stand outside the mall with my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. I see Jack on his motorcycle as he pulls it up to the curb. He takes off his helmet and looks at me. Damn. He just gets hotter every time I see him. His shaggy hair is slightly blowing in the breeze and the light from the streetlight is highlighting the contours of his perfectly structured face.

I walk over and he hands me his helmet.

"Why don't you wear a helmet?" I ask.

"I only have one. Now put it on or I won't let you ride," he says firmly. I put on the helmet and get on his motorcycle behind him.

"Hold on tight," he says as we speed off. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly. His hair blows in my face and it smells like vanilla. I close my eyes and rest my chin on his shoulder as I breath in his scent.

"Oh, make a right here," I shout.

"What?" He yells back.

"Right!"

He turns right onto my street. Luckily I live close to the mall or I'd lose my voice from shouting directions to him.

We're on a residential street now so we're going slower and I don't have to yell as loud.

"And it's the one on the right with the big tree, right there," I say, pointing. He drives past it though and parks in the empty driveway of the house next to mine. "Oh, um, you missed it. It's the one right there," I say. I realize there are no cars in my driveway. "Oh, my parents aren't home yet. I'm not allowed to have people over unless they're home."

"Ok," he says. Why does he barely ever talk? That's all he has to say?

"Uhh, so why did you park here?" I question.

He doesn't respond. He just walks up to the front door, finds a key under the doormat, unlocks the door, and walks into the house.

"I think this is considered breaking and entering," I say awkwardly. He just turns on the light and walks upstairs, expecting me to follow him, and for some reason, I do.

I follow him into a room and I come to a realization when he turns on the light.

"Oh. Now I realize you live here," I say awkwardly. He takes his leather jacket off and tosses it onto his bed.

"How did you figure that out? You know, you'd make a really good detective," he says sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up," I say, punching him playfully in the shoulder.

"Ah!" He grimaces and holds his shoulder.

"Woah, I didn't hit you that hard. What's wrong with your shoulder?" I ask.

He rubs his shoulder and says, "Uh, just a bruise."

"You're lying," I say. He looks up at me, still with a pained expression on his face.

"No I'm not." His face slowly goes back to his normal expression: hostility.

I reach out and lift the short sleeve of his tee shirt to reveal a large pink scar all across his (super buff) shoulder. I can tell it was a deep cut and there's parts where his skin is stretched and wrinkled. Whatever it was it must have been really painful. It looks like it cut into his muscles, which would mean his shoulder doesn't work very well. I look up at him in confusion. "What happened?"

He pulls his sleeve back down and mumbles, "Ugh, maybe you are a good detective." He turns around and sits on the foot of his bed. I walk over to his desk and sit in his chair. I wait for him to explain but instead he points at the math textbook on his desk. "Give me that."

I hand it to him and he flips through the pages. "Do the practice problems on this page," he says, handing the open book back to me. "There's lined paper right there," he says, pointing at the stack of paper on his desk.

I'm about halfway through the problems when I get confused. I spin around to see Jack laying in his bed, breathing softly. He's asleep. He looks a lot less intimidating. He looks peaceful and… really cute. I don't want to wake up him up but I need his help.

"Jack?" No response. I walk over to the side of his bed. "Jack, wake up," I say loudly. He's still sound asleep. I poke his arm. Woah, he has really big biceps. I grab his arm and shake him. "Jack!"

He blinks and looks at me strangely. "Are you an angel?" He asks groggily.

I blush and laugh. "No, Jack. I'm Kim."

He rubs his eyes and sits up, sweeping his legs over the edge of his bed. "Kim? Oh," he mumbles.

"Yep, Kim. Not Cam. I see how you could make that mistake though," I say with an awkward smile. He looks up at me and just stares at me for a while. I wish he would show some kind of clue on his face for me to figure out what he's thinking, but he does a good job of not showing any emotion other than anger or annoyance. Does he even feel emotions? Besides anger or irritation?

"Did you finish?"

"Uh, no, I got stuck and I need your help."

"Ugh. I wanna go back to sleep."

"Too bad. You said you wanted to do this now." I take the textbook and my paper and pencil and sit next to him on his bed. When I look up at his face he's still staring at me. It's not fair— I feel so vulnerable when he looks deep into my eyes and it feels like he's reading my thoughts, but I have no idea whatsoever what goes on in his mind. Wow, God really spent a lot of time making that face of his. He keeps getting closer and closer. His eyes flicker down to my lips for less than a millisecond, but I noticed it.

I can feel his breath on my face.

 _Hot breath on my face. Can't move my hands. Pain. So much pain._

Suddenly I feel nauseous. My heart is pounding too fast. My chest feels tight and I can't breath. I close my eyes and try to compose myself. I start breathing hard because no matter how much air fills my lungs I feel like there's not enough oxygen.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I open my eyes and finally see some emotion in his face: concern.

I try to catch my breath but I can't. The room is spinning and I have to find something to hold on to. I feel a warm pair of strong arms around me.

"Woah, don't pass out. Here, lay down."

He lowers me down so I'm laying on his bed. I instinctively push him off of me. "No, stop! Get off, get off! Please, don't!" I don't know where these words are coming from. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I think you're having a panic attack. Slow down your breathing; you're hyperventilating and it's making you dizzy," he says calmly. "Just focus on your breathing."

I listen to him and after a few moments I'm breathing normally again. I open my eyes to see him standing away from me, his face still showing worry.

"Do you need me to give you some space?"

I slowly nod my head. He nods and leaves his room, closing the door behind him. What the hell just happened?

Feeling his breath on my face, being so close to me… I thought I liked it but it brought back a memory. A memory I didn't know I had until now. I now realize that tears are streaming down my face and my nose is stuffy. I rack my brain, trying to think of what happened, or where that memory came from.

It's been a few minutes when the door opens and Jack comes in with a box of pizza and a tub of ice cream.

"Hungry?" He asks. I nod as he sits back down next to me and sets the food on his nightstand. "Do you want to talk about it?" I look up at him and see that his face is expressionless now.

I take a deep and shaky breath before saying, "I'm sorry I freaked out on you. I just remembered something and I thought you were someone else who was hurting me and I'm still confused by what even happened. I don't even know where the memory came from, but it's like… something happened that brought it back," I say, looking at the floor. I look up at him and whisper, "I want to remember."

"No, it's best that you let it go," he says forcefully. "If you don't remember, it means your mind has been blocking it out for a reason."

"What? Why? I need to know what happened!"

He softens his voice and says, "Please, just trust me. Don't try to resurface that memory." His voice breaks when he says this.

"Okay," I say, nodding. "I'll let it go." For some reason I trust that he's looking out for me, so I believe him.

"Here's a slice. Let's see that problem you got stuck on."

I walk upstairs my dark and empty house and switch on the light in my room. I flop onto my bed and look at my window to see Jack staring at me from his room. He's sitting on his bed, holding a guitar. The fact that he plays guitar just made him even hotter, if that's possible. He waves at me awkwardly and I smile and wave back. I close my curtains and get ready for bed.

After a long warm shower I pull on my comfy PJs and lay in bed. I pick up my phone and see a new message.

 _You owe me five slices of pizza and half a tub of ice cream. How the hell do you eat so much? Weirdo._

 _-Jack_

I laugh and text him back.

 _You're a weirdo._

I plug my phone into the charger and smile. The smile doesn't last long though because I remember the way I just freaked out at Jack. Where did that memory come from? Do I want to know? And how did Jack knew so much about what was happening to me? It's going to be a long time until I fall asleep.

 **AN: How was it? You probably think it's predictable but you'll be surprised by the next chapters. What do you think is going to happen? Also, review if you liked it! Or even if you didn't like it! Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thanks to whoever reads this. You rock! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Skinny Dipping?

**AN: Writing these stories is kind of hard because I always get off track and write a whole scene that I end up deleting because it doesn't fit with the storyline. I always save them though in case I want to use them later or even in a different story. They're usually like steamier encounters between Jack and Kim, so if you like that and you want to read them I could post them as one-shots or something. Is that something you'd want to read?**

 **Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It adds more layers to the characters and to the plot, and I like how it's building up. Everything that happens will be important in future chapters…**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It or any songs by The Rolling Stones.**

It's Monday morning. I hate Mondays. But for some reason I'm excited to go to school today.

I take a shower, scrubbing my whole body with my peach scented body wash on my pink loofah. I wrap a towel around my body and go back to my room. I put on my outfit for the day: light wash skinny jeans and a white fitted scoop neck short sleeve shirt. I slip on my black vans and go back to the bathroom to put on some makeup and blow dry my hair. When I'm done, I can say confidently that I look hot. Usually I wear more loose fitting clothes and don't put on makeup, but today I feel like dressing to impress.

When I finally get to my school after a fifteen minute walk, I see Jack parking his motorcycle. He's wearing his usual black leather jacket and dark clothes. When he pulls off his helmet, his hair falls down and he combs through it with his hands clad in fingerless gloves. His expression is angrier than usual. He looks so hot when he's mad. He always looks hot though.

I should have expected the wolf whistles and catcalls from all the guys in the hallway. I don't understand why I'm attracting so much attention—I'm not showing a lot of skin. I mean, there are girls at this school who wear practically nothing but don't get this reaction from guys. I open my locker and take out some books from my backpack.

"Damn, baby. Those jeans are really doing your ass a favor." I take a deep breath and try to keep my cool before turning around. I see one of the Black Dragons smirking at me. I see his group standing across the hall watching him and snickering. Jack is with them, but he looks unamused.

"Oh, babe, your tits are as nice as your ass! With a body like that, you could get any guy you want… even a guy like me," he says with a smirk.

I raise my eyebrows and scoff. "If you ever talk to me again I will kick you so hard up your ass you'll taste feet," I say in a low voice.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise but then chuckles. "Ooh, you're feisty. Just how I like 'em."

I smile and grab his hand. He smirks and I give him a sweet smile before flipping him hard onto his back. As he groans in pain I close my locker and 'accidentally' step on his chest as I walk away. His friends are howling and laughing and saying stuff like "daaaaamn girl!" I look at them to see that Jack has the slightest bit of a smirk on his face.

* * *

"So, Kim, are you gonna tell us how your study session with Jack went?" Eddie asks.

I pull my lunch out of my backpack (the food at school is inedible, so I bring my own now) and take a bite of my apple. "It was normal. I worked on some practice problems, Jack fell asleep, oh and apparently he's my neighbor," I tell them.

"What? We need more details, woman!" Milton yells.

"That's all I'm going to tell you. Now will you please calm down? People are looking."

"Yo, did you make him smile?" Jerry asks.

"No. Not yet."

I can't tell them about my flashback or my panic attack. Especially not at school. I ignore most of their questions and when I do answer them I purposely talk with a mouth full of food so they can't understand me.

* * *

I finish changing into my gym clothes for PE and walk out of the girl's locker room. As I enter the gym I see the Black Dragon group: Jack, Brody, Brett, Randy, Frank, and Todd. Randy is the one I flipped this morning. He has a sling on his arm. I hear them talking as I walk past them.

"Dude, check out the new girl. She makes sweatpants and a T-shirt look hot," Brett says.

"Dude, watch this. I'm gonna do my classic pick-up line," Brody says.

"Uhh, Brody that's not such a good idea. She's feisty," Randy warns him.

"Just how I like 'em." He looks at me and makes the "come here" gesture with his index finger. I roll my eyes and walk over. I stand in front of him with him with my hands on my hips.

Brody smirks. "I just made you come with one finger. Imagine what I could do with two," he says seductively.

The whole group yells and laughs—besides Jack, who Rolls his eyes. I slowly walk up to him and smile. Then suddenly Brody is on the floor holding his face in his hands. When he uncovers his face his nose is bleeding and his eye looks fucked up.

I look down at him and smirk. "I just broke your nose and gave you a black eye with one punch. Imagine what I could do with two." Everyone shouts, "OHHHHHH!" and "Duuuuude!"

I turn around, my ponytail flying behind me, and see Jack with his eyebrows raised at me as I walk away.

Brody is on his way to the nurse with Brett helping him walk.

"No girl has ever turned down Brody like that," Frank says.

"Maybe she's a lesbian. I mean, any other girl would be all over him if he said that. And the same with what I said in the hallway," Randy says.

Then Todd says, "She's not a lesbian. You guys just don't know how to pick up a girl."

"Why don't you go get her then, Todd?" Randy says.

"Not now, she's too fired up."

"You're scared!" Frank says.

Now I'm out of hearing distance but I can still tell they're arguing. Guys are so stupid.

* * *

 _Tuesday Morning_

As I enter my math classroom I see my teacher passing out the scored tests from Monday. I take my seat and flip over my test to see a '88%' written in red ink. I smile and look over to see Milton scowling at his test.

"What did you get?" I ask him. He sighs.

"Ninety-six percent! Can you believe that?"

I laugh and say, "And you're mad about that?"

He looks at me in shock. "Of course you wouldn't understand. But I actually care about my grades. I was expecting to see a three digit percent!"

I roll my eyes and laugh. I see Jack come in and I smile at him. He ignores me and sits down, brooding. Typical. I brush it off and flip through my test to see what I got wrong.

* * *

 _Wednesday Morning_

I search the halls for Jack. He's not at his locker or anywhere around. Then I see him walk through the doors at the entrance of the school and the air suddenly feels hotter and harder to breathe. His mop of shaggy brown hair, his leather jacket, his stone cold glare—he's so attractive yet so intimidating. I approach him awkwardly and he furrows his eyebrows at me.

"Unless you have the pizza or the ice cream you owe me, I don't want to talk to you."

My heart sinks to my stomach. "I just— remember how we got our tests back yesterday? In math?"

"I really don't care what grade you got," he says coldly.

"Oh. Well I still have to give you the twenty bucks that I didn't give you on Friday," I say.

He holds out his hand, raising his eyebrows in impatience. I pull a twenty dollar bill out of my jeans pocket and he snatches it out of my hand. "Jeez. Why are you so mad?"

"Go away. I'm not your friend. And I don't want to date you. So just leave me alone."

"Why do you assume I want to date you?"

"Because you're being nice to me when I'm an ass to you. Nobody's nice to me. Except girls who are trying to hook up with me."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not trying to hook up with you. I'm being nice to you because I can tell you're going through shit and you don't have any real friends to talk to about it."

He scoffs. "So you think I'd want to talk to you about my problems?"

I shrug. "You probably don't want to, but you should. Try finding someone else who actually cares if you really don't like me."

"Nobody cares," he says firmly.

"I literally just told you I care." I frown. "Why don't you just give me a chance? To be your friend?"

He sighs and looks around to make sure nobody is listening. Then he whispers, "Okay. I'll… hang out with you or something. But don't tell anyone. And don't talk about it at school."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes. "If people find out I made a friend they might think I'm friendly and try to talk to me. I don't like it when people talk to me," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I smirk. "So I _am_ your friend now?"

He sighs in exasperation. "God, you're so annoying. No, you're never going to be my friend. I just agreed to give you a chance so you'd stop bothering me. Now go away before anyone hears us."

I laugh and walk to my math class.

* * *

I just got home from karate practice and finished taking a nice warm shower. I walk into my room in my bathrobe and a towel wrapped around my head. My skin smells like peaches and my hair smells like strawberries. As I look through my drawers for pajamas, I hear my phone buzz.

 _We can hang tonight. I just got home. P.S. you should close your curtains when you get dressed._

I look out of my window to see Jack laying on his bed, looking at his phone. I laugh and close my curtains. I text him back.

 _Ok. Where? P.S. thanks for not being a perv_

I pull on a pair of lacy black underwear and my fuzzy purple pajama pants. I put on a lacy black bra and a black cami. I zip a gray hoodie over it and slip on my fluffy slippers. My phone buzzes again.

 _My house. Bring snacks._

I laugh and go downstairs. "Mom, I'm going to the neighbor's house. I made a friend."

"Oh, that's great honey. Be back by eleven," she says. My mom is cool—she lets me stay out pretty late because she trusts me. I look through the cabinets and get tortilla chips. Then I get guacamole from the fridge and ice cream from the freezer. I walk over to his house with my hands full and notice there are no cars in his driveway. I kick up my leg and ring the doorbell with my toe. Jack opens the door and I see him wearing gray sweatpants and a black henley t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks me up and down and just stands there with a grumpy look on his face.

I roll my eyes and push past him into his house. He closes the door and I look for a place to put the food. "Why did you want me to bring food?" I ask.

He takes the tub of ice cream and puts it in his freezer. "My parents went on a business trip and there's no food here."

"Why don't you go grocery shopping?" I ask.

He takes the bag of chips and I follow him into his living room. "I would, expect I don't have money and it's kind of hard to carry groceries on a motorcycle," he says sarcastically.

"They didn't leave money for food?" I ask, sitting on his couch.

He sets the chips on the coffee table and looks for something while saying, "Nah, they kind of forgot about me." He picks up a remote and turns on the TV. He sits on the chaise of the couch, with one leg straight and one bent.

"Oh," I mumble awkwardly.

"It's no big deal; it happens all the time." His parents kind of suck. Maybe that's why he's always so upset. He clicks through the channels and stops on a wrestling match.

There is an awkward silence and I try to break it. "What shows or movies do you like?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Sports. Action. Horror."

"Oh, horror? Have you seen the remake of 'It' that just came out?"

He shivers and looks disgusted. "No. No clowns. Anything but clowns."

I put my hands up defensively. "Sorry." I open the tub of guacamole and the bag of chips and start eating. I take the remote from him and change the channel, looking for something funny to watch. "What are you doing? I was watching that!" He says angrily.

"Do you ever watch comedy shows?" I ask.

"No. They're not funny."

I frown at him. "Do you even have a sense of humor?"

He dips a chip in guacamole while saying, "Nope."

I continue flipping through the channels. I don't find anything I want to watch and turn off the TV. He looks at me with irritation. "You turned it off," He says.

I roll my eyes and say, "I don't want to watch TV. That doesn't really count as hanging out."

He groans and tilts his head back. "What does count as hanging out?"

I shrug and say, "We could talk?"

"I don't like talking."

I sigh. "We could play a game?"

"I don't have any games."

I roll my eyes. "I mean a game like Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare. I want to learn something about you."

He groans and turns to face me, laying his feet on my lap. I look down and laugh. "You have hairy feet."

He lifts his leg up and puts his foot in my face. "Why do your feet smell like… vanilla?"

He rests his foot down on my lap and mumbles, "I just showered." Then he says in a bored tone, "How do you play Never Have I Ever?"

"Okay, so we both hold up ten fingers. If you've done something the person says you put a finger down. The first person with all their fingers down loses."

"I'll start," he says, holding up his hands. "Never have I ever kissed a guy." He looks at me expectantly but I keep my fingers up.

"Never have I ever kissed a girl," I say, and he doesn't put a finger down. So neither of us have had our first kiss.

"Never have I ever shaved my legs," he says, and I put a finger down.

"Never have I ever seen a penis in real life." He looks at me with a shocked expression and doesn't put down a finger. I reach out and bend one of his fingers down. He rolls his eyes.

"Never have I ever seen boobs in real life."

I roll my eyes and put down a finger. "Never have I ever masturbated."

He looks at me incredulously. He puts down a finger and then says, "Seriously?"

I blush and nod my head. He raises his eyebrows and says, "Um, never have I ever… um…"

"This game is stupid. Let's do something else," I say.

He sighs in relief and says, "Now I get to choose what we do."

"Okay, what do you want to do?"

He just gets up and I follow him into his garage. He turns on the light and I see his motorcycle parked inside. He gets a helmet from a shelf and hands it to me. He gets his leather jacket from a coat rack and puts it on. Then he takes his helmet off his bike and puts it on.

I put the helmet on and ask, "Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer. He just opens the garage and rolls the bike outside. I follow him and he presses a button on the keypad on the wall and the garage door closes.

"I'm in my pajamas! I'm wearing slippers!" I say.

He ignores me and gets on the bike, and I reluctantly put on my helmet and get on behind him. I wrap my arms around his chest and feel safe. He starts driving west. I watch as the colors flash past us in a blur and the sun is setting, giving everything a golden glow. I take in his scent of vanilla and leather. By the time he stops, the sky is a dark orange and pink color along the horizon. He parks on the side of the road and I get off of his bike. He gets off too. I swear, every time he takes off his helmet my heart skips a beat. I take off my helmet and look around. I hear waves crashing, but I don't see the ocean.

He starts walking into the trees by the road and I follow him. "Where are we going? What if I walk into a spider web?"

He ignores me and continues walking along a small trail. After about five minutes, we emerge from the trees onto a sandy beach.

"Woah, I didn't even know this beach existed," I say in awe of the beauty.

"It's a private beach. I found it a few years ago but nobody else knows about it. So don't tell anyone, or it won't be so private anymore," he says.

I nod and smile to myself. He hasn't told anybody about this beach, not even his friends, but he told me. My heart flutters when I think about it. I take off my slippers and hold them as I walk towards the shore, loving the feeling of the sand between my toes.

Jack follows me and takes off his leather jacket. Then he pulls up his sweats and puts his feet in the water. I follow him and do the same.

"I like to stand still and see how far down my feet will sink in the sand," I say, looking off to the darkening horizon.

Jack sighs and says, "Yeah, me too." We stand there in silence for a while. Then he walks back to the dry sand. I follow the sound of his footsteps; it's so dark now that I can't see him. An idea forms in my mind and I say, "I'm going to go swim."

Jack scoffs. "Yeah, right."

I unzip my hoodie and and he says, "Wait, you're serious? Are you going skinny dipping?"

I laugh and say, "Yep. And you're going to go with me."

"No way. I'm not getting naked in front of you."

I scoff and say, "Am I wearing clothes right now?"

He's silent for a moment before saying, "I can't tell."

"Exactly! We can't see each other. And this beach is private. Come on, it'll be fun!" I say.

He groans and I hear him taking off his clothes. I remove my bra and my panties. I pick up my phone and say, "Okay, look away. I'm going to turn on my phone flashlight so we can find our stuff when we get out."

I turn on the flashlight, making sure it's aimed in the opposite direction of us, and set it in my pile of clothes. "Are you ready?" I ask.

He sighs. "Yeah." I reach out and grab his hand. He flinches and pulls his hand away. I brush it off and say, "Okay, let's go."

I hear him following me and when I get to the water I stop, shocked by how cold it feels. Jack walks into me from behind and both of us fall down with a splash. His bare chest is against my bare back, and the feeling of our wet bodies pressed together is just—

"What the hell!" He says. I stand up, wading deeper into the sea.

"Sorry. We need to keep talking or we'll lose each other or, you know, get too close."

"I don't like talking," he grumbles.

I sigh. "It's either that or you hold my hand."

He hesitates before reaching out and trying to grab my hand. Instead his hand brushes against my butt. It's like everywhere he touches me sparks fly.

"Where's your hand?" He says in exasperation. I laugh and grab his hand. Electricity jolts through my arm and spreads through my whole body, settling in my center and creating a tingling sensation. We get deeper and deeper until we're about chest-deep with our feet on the ground.

I hear a wave coming and I pull him down. We both dive under it and come up for a breath at the same time. Jack coughs and says, "I got water up my nose."

I laugh and say, "Sorry." I feel a piece of seaweed brushing against my leg. I grab it out of the water and throw it at him.

"Ah! Something just hit me in the face," he says. Then I feel the same piece of seaweed hit me in the face. I laugh and throw it back at him. This time he holds it up against my face and tries to shove it in my mouth.

"Ah! Mmmstopit!" I say, trying to talk with my mouth closed.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," he says, pulling his hand away from my face.

"I said, stop i—ahmf!" He shoves the seaweed in my mouth and I spit it out. I hear Jack laugh and I'm about to get back at him so bad he's gonna regret messing with m— wait, did he actually just laugh?

"I'm going to get back at you."

He scoffs and says, "I'd like to see you try."

I forget the fact that I'm completely naked and lunge at him. My bare chest touches his and we both gasp. I immediately back away and say, "Oh, sorry, I forgot, you know, that we're naked."

He clears his throat and says, "Um, I think we should get out now."

"Oh, uh, okay." We swim back to the shore and walk towards the light coming from my phone. When we get there, I realize my clothes are missing, except for my bra and underwear.

"Jack, are your clothes missing?" I say nervously.

"All I can find is my underwear," he says.

"Me too." I groan and look at my phone. "Somebody stole our clothes, but not our underwear, or our phones. This is some sick prank," I say, pulling on my lacy black thong. I hear shuffling and freeze.

"Did you hear that?" I whisper to Jack.

"Shh," he whispers. We stand there frozen in silence and all of a sudden a flash of light comes from behind me and the sound of a camera shutter. I just saw Jack in only his boxers! It was for half a second, but still! I turn around to see who it is but I'm blinded by light again. Shit! I'm not wearing a bra! They just got photos of me and Jack practically naked together. Then my clothes are thrown at me and I hear hushed voices and they run away.

"What just happened?" I ask awkwardly.

"I think someone just stole our clothes to get pictures of us almost naked," he says.

"Well, at least they left us our underwear. Which was kind of pointless because I didn't even get to put on my bra on before they took the pictures."

"Wait, so they got pictures of your…"

"My boobs," I groan. I hook my bra and spin it around, flipping it up and pulling the straps over my arms. "Who do you think it was?"

Jack grumbles something to himself. Then he says, "Why did you make me do this? If it wasn't for you this wouldn't have happened!"

"It's not like I wanted some creep to come take nudes of me! I just wanted to have fun!"

Jack sighs in frustration. I zip up my hoodie and am finally dressed.

"Let's go," he says, walking back into the mini jungle.

I pick up my phone and my slippers and follow him. It's been about ten minutes and we're still walking. "I think we're lost," I say.

Jack stops and turns around. "Yeah, I realized that, Dora the Explo—"

"Shh," I say. I hear cars driving in the distance and I follow the sound. "Follow me."

We emerge from the trees and I see Jack's motorcycle shining under the streetlight. I smile at him and he ignores me, getting on the bike and putting his helmet on. I put mine on too and get on behind him. Now instead of smelling like vanilla he smells like salty seaweed.

* * *

We walk back into his house and he completely ignores me, going upstairs. I follow him and he closes his door behind him before I come into his room.

"Uh, Jack?" I say, knocking on the door. He opens it and looks at me with hostility. "I just wanted to say sorry. For, you know, everything that just happened."

He rolls his eyes and opens the door all the way for me to come in. I awkwardly walk into his room and notice that he doesn't have much of anything in his room besides furniture, school supplies on his desk, and a rack of electric guitars in the corner next to a small amp. There's also an acoustic guitar resting against his bed.

"Wow. You have a lot of guitars." I stand there awkwardly and he ignores my presence. He lays on his bed and picks up the acoustic guitar.

I sit at the foot of his bed, turning sideways to face him awkwardly. He begins strumming and plucking the strings. I recognize the song he's playing: Paint It Black, by The Rolling Stones. I sing along quietly.

 _I see a red door and I want it painted black_

 _No colors anymore, I want them to turn black_

 _I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes_

 _I have to turn my head until my darkness goes_

 _I see a line of cars and they're all painted black_

 _With flowers and my love both never to come back_

 _I see people turn their heads and quickly look away_

 _Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day_

 _I look inside myself and see my heart is black_

 _I see my red door I must have it painted black_

 _Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts_

 _It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_

 _No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue_

 _I could not foresee this thing happening to you_

 _If I look hard enough into the setting sun_

 _My love will laugh with me before the morning comes_

 _I see a red door and I want it painted black_

 _No colors anymore, I want them to turn black_

 _I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes_

 _I have to turn my head until my darkness goes_

 _Hmm, hmm, hmm,.._

 _I wanna see it painted, painted black_

 _Black as night, black as coal_

 _I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky_

 _I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black_

He stops playing and looks into my eyes. "Woah."

"What?" I ask.

"You're um, just really good… at, um, singing. And I didn't think you'd know the lyrics."

I shrug. "Thanks. You're really good at guitar."

"Uh, thanks."

I squint at him and say, "You relate to that song, don't you?"

He stares at me, his eyes dark and his face hard. "Yeah." I start to feel as if his gaze is burning a hole through me.

"Did you know that song is about, um, his girlfriend's funeral?"

He furrows his eyebrows at me. "How do you know?"

I look down and say, "Well, there's a line of black cars, like at a funeral. And his love will never come back, and 'like a newborn baby it just happens every day' is referring to death. And the red door is his heart—he wants to paint it black and not open it up to anyone anymore because he's afraid he'll get hurt again. That's why he says 'maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts'— it's the fact that she died. 'I could not foresee this thing happening to you'— he feels guilty for her death, like he could have protected her. And he feels like he can't go on without her. Him wanting all the colors to turn black represents him wanting to block out any emotions and to just be numb so he can't be hurt again." After I explain this I look back up at him and he's looking at the ground, his jaw clenched and a single tear trailing down his cheek.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Go home," he says coldly, not looking at me.

I nod and know better than to push him. So I get up and before I leave his room I say, "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here." He ignores me and continues looking at the ground. "Um, bye."

 **AN: How was it? I actually don't know how I feel about this chapter, but everything will start making sense if you keep reading. Review and tell me what parts you did like and which parts you didn't!**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited, followed, and/or reviewed so far!**


	4. Chapter 4: I Know I Turn You On

**A/N: I know it took me a while to update, sorry! I reread the first three chapters and realized my writing was super choppy and boring and simplistic. Hopefully as the story goes on, I can improve that. Do you prefer short but frequent updates, or longer chapters but updated less often? This chapter is shorter, although I have the next few chapters already written.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' it. I'm not sure why I have to do this, but everyone else does it and I don't want to get in trouble.**

* * *

 _Thursday morning_

I walk through the crowded halls, all of the individual conversations melding together into a murmur of voices. Several times I can swear I see people glancing at me and I'm almost positive I heard my name several times. As you can see, I'm definitely paranoid, and it doesn't help that I barely got any sleep last night. I have no idea who took those pictures last night or why, but I'm currently pleading to the universe that the pictures haven't been shared around.

I notice a dark figure in my peripheral vision. It's Jack, standing at his locker. I want to talk to him; I want to ask him if he knows anything about the pictures or if they're being spread around already. I take a deep breath and the hair on the back of my neck stands up when I approach him.

"Jack," I say, but my throat is tight and it comes out just above a whisper. Jack stands there, looking into his locker. His jaw clenches, and I am once again in awe of the perfect structure of his face. He runs a hand through his hair and refuses to look at me. "I just… I was worried that those pictures might be spreading around school. Have you heard or seen anything about it?"

He sighs and says into his locker, "No. And don't ever bring this up at school again. Or better yet, don't talk to me again." He slams his locker shut and leaves me standing there, feeling like an idiot. I am usually a confident person, but that might have just bruised my ego.

* * *

 _Friday—Lunch_

I sit down with the gang at our usual lunch table and pull out my brown sack of food.

"You know, Kim, you should get a lunchbox. All of those bags add up and end up in landfills," Milton says.

Eddie retorts, "And having a lunch box adds to your daily beatings from Frank and Randy."

Milton shrugs and nods. "Touché."

I take an apple out of my bag and get up to throw away a piece of trash. As I walk back to my table I toss my apple around, but I accidentally drop it. It doesn't land on the floor, though. It lands on someone's foot, and they kick it up and catch it. I look up and my breath catches in my throat. Jack. He stares at me blankly and I smile awkwardly. "Um, can I have my apple back?"

He takes a bite out of it and walks back to his table. Wow, he's so rude. Remind me why I have such a big crush on him? Oh, right, he's extremely hot. Stupid teenage hormones, making my taste in boys totally illogical.

* * *

 _Saturday_

Today's the big day: my first tournament as part of the Bobby Wasabi dojo. I change into my gi, and my mom and dad drive me to the Black Dragon dojo, where the tournament is being held. When we park, I notice Jack's motorcycle. Of course he's here; he's a Black Dragon! Am I going to compete against him?

I greet my friends and take a seat on the bench, watching my them compete. Milton goes first. All he has to do is break more boards than his opponent and he'll earn his orange belt! Milton's opponent goes first, breaking two boards. Milton tells the referee to give him three boards. I feel bad for doubting him, but I don't let it show. We all cheer for him and Rudy whispers in my ear, "That kid is going to break his arm."

Milton surprises us and succeeds in breaking all three boards. We jump up and huddle around him to congratulate him on earning his orange belt. "Milton, that was amazing! We're so proud of you!" Rudy says. "Eddie, you're up next. All you have to do is spar with your opponent and force him out of the square."

"I got this," Eddie says confidently. When he turns around and sees a tall beefy dude waiting for him, he whimpers, "I don't got this."

"Eddie, you can do it. I know you have it in you. You just have to find your chi and use it to win the match," Rudy says.

"Okay. Find my chi. I can do that," Eddie says.

Eddie did not find his chi. He did, however, find the sausage he ate this morning after the giant punched him in the gut. So Eddie is still a yellow belt.

Now it's Jerry's turn. He's really our only hope, because I'm already a second degree black belt. The requirements for advancing to the third degree include years of training that I do not have. "Come on, Jerry. You're our only hope! You have to win this!" Eddie says.

"Guys, don't put so much pressure on him. What matters is that he does his best," Rudy says. "Because if we don't win, our dojo will shut down and it will be all Jerry's fault!" he finishes. That's Rudy for you.

Jerry does a nunchuck routine and nails it! He gets his orange belt and our dojo is saved. Rudy puts pressure on me to win my match because it would mean we won the tournament. I'm matched with Brody Carlson, a first degree black belt. Only ten seconds after the referee signals to start, he's on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. The ref holds my hand in the air and says, "Winner: Kim Crawford!" I smile triumphantly and jog back to the gang for them to engulf me in a group hug.

Family members and other spectators gradually leave the dojo until it is just us and the Black Dragons. While Jerry is talking about how he improvised his nunchuck routine, I tune him out and train my ears on the voices from the other side of the room. The sensei is roasting his students to a point where he seems unprofessional. Then again, Rudy never seems very professional either.

"You losers are a disappointment to this dojo! Jack is the only one here who helps us win our tournaments consistently. This is our first loss. We lost because you dweebs are useless without Jack participating!" Jack is sitting on the bleachers with earbuds in. All the other guys are hanging their heads in shame.

The gang is talking about dinner at Phil's to celebrate, and I tell them I have to go to the bathroom first. When I come out, the only person in the dojo is Jack. He has his earbuds in and is punching and kicking a dummy in the corner.

"Jack?" He doesn't respond. I tap his shoulder and he instantly turns around, grabs my arm, and throws me against the wall. How could he be so rough with me, yet I still feel safe and warm around him? When he realizes it was me that he just manhandled, his eyes go wide and he backs away, removing his earbuds.

"Shit. Sorry, I thought you were one of the Black Dragons."

I rub my wrist and shake off the way he just turned me on. "Do you know where everyone went? They were supposed to wait for me."

"Obviously they didn't."

"Right… Why didn't you compete today?" I ask cautiously, knowing he doesn't like questions.

"Taking a break from competing," he says tersely, going back at it on the dummy. I notice the punches from his left arm are much weaker that the ones from his right. I remember the scar, and it was on his left shoulder.

"Recovering from an injury?" I ask casually.

"It's none of your business," he growls, his punches getting stronger. How is he scaring me and turning me on at the same time? Seeing his strength makes me feel like he could protect me from anything. But why am I thinking about that? He doesn't even want to be my friend. Why would he protect me, and what would even be a threat to me in the first place?

"Is it your shoulder?" He turns to me and his face is stone cold. I swallow hard as he backs me into the wall.

"Damn it, blondie, what do you not get about none of your business?! Are you deaf? Are you that bad at reading social cues that you don't realize I don't want anything to do with you?" He's towering over me, only about a foot away. I bite my lip and try to swallow down the lump forming in my throat.

"I-I'm not… Why are you so angry?" I look into his eyes for answers, but I just can't read him.

"Because I want you to fucking leave me alone!" he yells in my face.

I blink at him like an idiot and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Anger is boiling up inside of me and it's about to burst out. "I don't understand you! You surround yourself with assholes and idiots but when I try to talk to you, try to be nice to you, you push me away? You're, like, the antithesis of a sane human being!"

"Fuck you!" We're both screaming now, and it feels surprisingly good to let all this anger out.

"You know you want to!" Wow, Kim. Great comeback.

"Yeah right! You're the last person on earth I'd want to fuck!"

"You're such a fucking asshole! Something really fucked up must have happened to you to make you this way!"

He's suddenly quiet and the anger on his face turns to sorrow. Oh, shit. He really did go through something fucked up.

"Jack, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. Just—"

"I meant every word. I don't want anything to do with you. I hate you. Get out," he snarls.

I bite my lip and try not to let the water welling up in my eyes fall. I shove past him and run to my car, ignoring the electricity I feel when our bodies brush together. I can't believe I thought he might be a good guy once I get to know him. He proved me wrong.

My parents are still waiting for me in the parking lot. I meet my friends at dinner and pretend my whole interaction with Jack didn't happen. Their antics and jokes make everything seem to go back to normal, and my encounter with Jack is far in the back of my mind when I'm with them.

It's when I'm home alone for the first night, trying to fall asleep, that I can't get my mind off what he said. He doesn't want anything to do with me. It just doesn't make sense. It's like he wants to be lonely, like he's pushing me away because he knows I care about him. What happened to him that made him this way?

* * *

 _Monday morning_

I spent most of my time yesterday doing homework, which I had a lot of over the weekend. Now I'm on my way to my first class. Jack passes by me and completely ignores me, which is not surprising. But why does he have to be so gorgeous? I'm not a shallow person, but my hormones don't really care about personality. Every time I see him, my body physically aches for him. How does he have this effect on me?

About halfway through class, Jack excuses himself to go to the bathroom. It's been about ten minutes, and the teacher finally lets me go to the bathroom even though Jack hasn't gotten back yet because I told her it was 'girl problems.' I just really have to pee.

After using the restroom, I push the door open, turn the corner, and a body slams into me, shoving me to the ground.

"Damn it blondie, watch where you're going," a low voice mutters above me. When I brush my hair out of my face, the sight above me takes my breath away, like always. Jack his hovering over me on his forearms, scowling at me. How is it that in a matter of seconds, he can make my heart race, make me forget how to breathe, make my brain turn to mush, make my core burn and ache for him? It's those damn hormones. And at the same time, there's a warmth radiating from him that contradicts the coldness of his glare.

"Why don't _you_ watch where you're going? _You_ knocked _me_ over," I retort. My cheeks are burning under his cold glare.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Jack growls. How did that turn me on? He's being mean! Why does my vagina like that?

"Why don't you suck my dick?" I say, trying (and failing) to be as intimidating as he is.

"Why don't _you_ suck _my_ dick?" Oh god. Why did he have to say that? Now my imagination is coming up with some very graphic and inappropriate images.

"What dick? You mean your personality?" Oooooh, good comeback, Kim!

"Fuck you!"

A smirk tugs at my lips as I say, "You obviously want to. Why else would you still be on top of me?"

"I bet if I did want to fuck you, you'd let me. I know I turn you on," he says with the slightest bit of a smirk of his own. He had been hovering his whole body over mine, but now he's pressing himself against me. I swallow hard and close my eyes, trying to compose myself. "I'm turning you on right now, aren't I?" Jack asks, grinding on me. I can feel his growing bulge pressing right against my center. Oh, god! I must be having a wet dream or something. But then I notice something that I wish I didn't: his breath on my face.

 _Hot breath on my face. So heavy, crushing me. It hurts! Stop! Get off, get off, get off! Help! Please, stop! BANG! My ears are ringing, I can't hear, I can't breathe, I can't move…_

* * *

 **A/N: How was it? Anything you think I should have written differently or anything you don't like about the story? Anything you _do_ like about the story? I know the ending was a bit strange. What do you think happened to Kim, or where these memories are coming from? Tell me your predictions in the comments! The more feedback I get, the sooner I'll post the next chapter. :D**


	5. Chapter 5: I Wasn't Drowning, Doofus

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed on this story and my others! You are my inspiration. If you have any opinion whatsoever about any part of my story, review and tell me! I'm trying to become a better writer, so criticism and compliments are both welcome! Here's chapter 5: I Wasn't Drowning, Doofus.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

The next thing I know, I'm curled up in a ball on the dirty floor tiles, sobbing and trying to breathe. How did I get here? What just happened? The air is going in and out of my lungs, but it's not working. I can't get enough oxygen, and I feel like my chest is so tight it's going to implode.

"Kim, breathe with me. In," I breathe in and wait for Jack's cue to exhale. "And out… and in… and out… in… out… in… out… There you go, good job. Just focus on breathing and nothing else," he instructs me.

After about a minute or two, I'm breathing normally and I can sit up. "What happened?"

Jack looks around as if he's looking for an answer and says, "You screamed at me to get off, it hurts, please stop, somebody help me."

Why is it that every time I have a panic attack, I'm with Jack? "I'm sorry I freaked out on you. I just… I remembered something. It's not a big deal; I just overreacted. I'm fine."

"Do you think you can go back to class?" he asks with a straight face, which is at least better than his usual glare.

"I should do something to take my mind off of it, so yeah."

Jack, who is currently crouching beside me, stands up and says, "I'm going to go to class so the teacher doesn't get suspicious." I nod and watch him walk away.

I'm in the bathroom, splashing my face with cool water to make it less puffy, when another girl comes in. She has brown hair and she's wearing an orange dress.

"Um, who are you?" she asks rudely. Who does this girl think she is?

"I'm Kim," I say simply.

"I'm Lindsay," she says, fixing her hair in the mirror. "I saw you in the hall with Jack. He made you cry?" she asks, feigning sympathy.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I don't cry over boys," I reply.

"Then what were you crying about?" Lindsay asks, as if that's the only possible reason I could be crying.

"I have a feeling you don't actually care; you just want to be the one with new juicy gossip," I answer as I apply chapstick to my swollen lips. "It's none of your business. Buh-bye, Lindsay," I say as I leave the bathroom for the second time.

* * *

 _Friday_

Jack has been avoiding me all week. It's not that big of a deal; it's not like my main goal in life is to get his attention. I'm busy with school, karate, homework, and I spend a lot of time with my parents and my friends.

Milton, Eddie, Jerry and I are all currently hanging out in the dojo. Rudy had to go help his mother's man friend because his nose got stuck in a bowling ball after playing a game called 'I Bet I Can Fit My Nose In That.'

"So, Kim… We've noticed that you and Jack have had some tension going on between you two. What happened?" Milton asks, changing the subject.

I roll my eyes and sigh, debating whether to tell them everything that's happened between Jack and me so far. I opt to tell them only certain parts. "Well, after the tournament on Saturday, I tried to talk to Jack and he said some… hurtful things. He basically told me he hates me and he wants nothing to do with me. Then on Monday during math class, I came out of the bathroom and Jack ran into me and fell on top of me. We had an altercation, and at some point he said 'fuck you,' and then I said 'you obviously want to or you wouldn't still be on top of me,' and then he said 'even if I did want to fuck you, you'd let me because I turn you on,' and then he like pressed his body up against me, and he was like grinding on me and he said he knew he was turning me on. Anyways, I think he's avoiding me because of that encounter."

All three boys are wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "Wow. That explains the tension between you two," Milton finally says.

"Yo, was he right? Was he turning you on?" Jerry asked.

I forced myself to admit it. "Yes. I think he was turned on, too. Either that or he had a banana in his pocket."

"That means he's straight!" Eddie comments.

"It also means he likes you, Kim," Milton adds.

"He said he hates me and he told me to leave him alone. How could he like me?" I ask.

Eddie cocks his head and squints while he says, "Jack's a complicated guy. He's probably just trying to hide how he really feels."

"If he thinks I like him, why would he be afraid of letting me know he likes me?" I question.

"Maybe he's afraid of getting hurt in a relationship. Or maybe he's afraid of hurting you," Jerry suggests.

"Wow, Jerry. That's insightful. I was just going to say he's hiding his feelings because he's put up walls and he doesn't like feeling vulnerable," Milton says.

"Maybe it's all of those things," I suggest.

"Or none of them," Eddie counters. "We can't jump to the conclusion that Jack actually has feelings for Kim. Maybe he only finds her physically attractive."

As much as I hate to admit it, Eddie has a good point. "Well, it doesn't matter whether he has feelings for me. What really matters is our experiment: making Jack smile. If he does have walls, maybe I can break them down and find out who he really is behind his bad boy persona."

"Exactly. So, what's our next step?" Milton asks. Then he answers his own question. "Kim has to spend some time with him. The more often you're around him, Kim, even if you're just watching a movie or sitting in the same room, the more he'll feel like he can be himself. Just don't ask him personal questions or let the conversation get too deep, or he'll build all those walls back up. Keep it lighthearted, playful, and friendly."

"Wow. I have to admit, that's a really good plan. I'll do it."

"Guys!" Rudy says, barging into the dojo, "My cat has to get braces. Can you believe that?"

* * *

 _Saturday morning_

"Kim! Breakfast!" my mom yells from downstairs. I reply with a sleepy groan and cuddle with my pillow.

"Knock knock… Kimmy? Your mom and I made breakfast. Omelettes, hash browns, fruit salad, orange juice… doesn't that sound good?" my dad says in an attempt to get me out of bed.

"Yeah… but why don't you guys ever make French toast or pancakes or waffles?" The thought of that kind of food would usually make my mouth water, but now it just sounds… bleh.

My dad chuckles and sits next to me on the edge of my bed. "We do on special occasions. But for the most part we try to be healthier and make food with more nutrition. All those foods are pure carbs and sugar, which will make you feel sick," he explains. "You might as well just have ice cream for breakfast."

"Mmmmmh…. I love you dad. You and mom are so—"

"You can butter me up all you want, little girl, but you're not getting breakfast in bed. Let's go downstairs," he says. My dad knows me too well.

"Carry me?"

My dad growls playfully and scoops me up in his arms, tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me fireman style down the stairs. He sets me down in the cushioned chair at the table, where a plate full of colorful food awaits me. I wait for my mom and dad to sit at the table before I start eating. The food is delicious, as always, and my parents ask me about how school is going, how my friends are, and how karate is. They already know about the gang—Milton, Jerry, Eddie, and Rudy—and they're glad I found such great friends, even if none of them are girls.

This is how Saturday and Sunday mornings typically go in the Crawford house. On weekdays, my mom will usually make scrambled eggs and a fresh smoothie before work and before I walk to school. We always eat breakfast and dinner as a family every day. My dad works in the automotive business while my mom is a physical therapist.

Breakfast this whole past week has felt different. It's not my parents; they're the same as always. It feels like something inside me just snapped shut, and is keeping me from sharing my thoughts and feelings with them. I haven't told them anything about Jack or the memories. Jack is the only person who knows, and I think I want to keep it that way. My parents would make a big deal out of it and ask questions that I don't want to answer. Plus, I'd have to explain what triggered the flashbacks, and I don't think they'd be very understanding about why I was in such close quarters with any guy, especially a 'bad boy.'

After breakfast, I jog upstairs and take a nice, warm shower. I get dressed in something comfy: grey yoga pants and a black zip-up hoodie. Usually I'd do my makeup, blow dry my hair, and add some loose curls, but today I don't really feel like getting all dolled up. I can be girly sometimes, in the way that I care about my appearance, but sometimes it's not worth all the trouble. I slip on flip-flops and text the group chat:

You guys want to hang today?

Eddie replies first:

Sorry, I have to practice for tomorrow's cello recital.

Then Jerry:

Got a date with a real cutie. Sorry not sorry :P

Then Milton:

At a study party at Sidney's house. Try to get together with Jack!

I'm kind of relieved that I'm not going to see them today, though I don't know why. I guess Milton is right, but I need a reason to spend time with Jack. I have another math test on Monday that I need to study for. Maybe he'll tutor me again.

I jog downstairs and find that my parents are gone. They're probably getting groceries or something. I grab the lasagna from the fridge—I hope Jack likes lasagna—and take it over to Jack's house. But now that I've pressed the doorbell, anxiety kicks in and I feel the need to leave. I feel self conscious because I definitely don't look put together or cute, with my hair all wet and stringy and my face bare and pale. When I finally start to leave, Jack opens the door and, as always, my heart skips five beats when I see him. "I was hoping you could help me study for the math test on Monday, and I don't have money, so hopefully you like Costco's lasagna," I say awkwardly, holding the package out to him. He gives me a weird look, takes the package, and closes the door in my face. Rude!

I pound on the door until he opens it again. "If you're not going to help me, I want my lasagna back," I say, folding my arms over my chest. Jack rolls his eyes and steps aside to let me in before closing the door behind me. He puts the lasagna in his fridge and I follow him upstairs into his room. Every time I'm in here, I wonder why it's so plain and empty-feeling. It's kind of depressing.

Jack grabs his math textbook from his desk and flops onto his bed. He's laying on his front, flipping through the pages, when he speaks for the first time. "Here. Do these problems and tell me if you need help."

I sit at his desk and find a blank sheet of lined paper. "You're not going to study?" I ask, taking the textbook from him.

"I don't have to."

"What did you get on the last test?" I ask while copying down the first problem on my paper.

"A hundred," Jack replies nonchalantly, lying back on his bed.

I spin around in the chair. "You got a better grade than Milton? Are you a nerd?"

Jack folds his arms behind his head and crosses his legs. "Nerds study. I don't."

"You don't study for any of your classes? What are your grades?" I ask incredulously.

"Straight A's. Now stop interrogating me and do your work before I kick you out."

I spin back around in the chair and try to do my work, but I don't know how to do this problem. "Jack? I need help."

Jack groans and says, "Come show me. I'm not getting up."

"Okay," I say awkwardly, carrying the book and my paper over to him. I kneel on the ground next to his bed so I can see the paper when he writes on it. He does the problem with ease and hands the book back to me. I read over it and say, "How did you do that? Now I'm more confused." Jack groans and explains his work. "Oh. I get it now. Thanks." I sit back at the desk, but it's not for long because I have no idea how to do the next problem. "I'm confused again." I bring the book to him again, but this time I go to the other side of his bed so I can sit next to him. I have the book and the paper in my lap, and he guides me through the steps. We do this for the rest of the problems, because they're all equally hard for me.

"Okay. That's all the problems. You can leave now," Jack says bluntly. I close the book and set it on his nightstand. Lately, I've felt irritable around people and want to be alone. Jack is the only person I feel comfortable around, which is weird, because he's the one who has been triggering my flashbacks. Plus, he hates me. What is it about him that makes me feel so warm and safe?

"Maybe we could hang out again? I promise, I won't make you get naked this time," I say, face palming at my choice of words.

Jack snorts—does that count as a laugh?—and says, "Fine. But I don't want to talk to you."

"Okay," I say, getting up from his bed. I look out his window that faces his backyard and notice a pool with a hot tub. I spin around and ask, "You have a pool? Can we use it?"

Jack rolls his eyes and says reluctantly, "Fine."

I giggle in excitement and run downstairs and go to my house to change into my bikini. Once I'm in my room, I make sure to close the curtains before changing. Then I put on a baby blue triangle halter top and baby blue cheeky bottoms. They're not too skimpy, but they also don't look like a diaper on my butt. I put on a flowy yellow coverup dress, slide my flip-flops back on, and go back to Jack's house. The door is unlocked—I almost thought he might lock me out—so I go inside. Right as I enter his house, Jack comes down the stairs in dark grey swim trunks and a white t-shirt, carrying two pool towels. I follow him to his living room, where he opens the sliding glass door and goes outside. He tosses a towel onto one pool chair, and lays his out on the other before lying back on it.

"You're not going in the pool?" I ask, laying my towel out on my chair, kicking off my flip-flops, and pulling my dress off over my head. Jack has his arm over his eyes, probably to block them from the sun.

"I'm not hot enough yet."

"You're going to get a farmer's tan if you wear your shirt in the sun," I tell him. I don't want it to seem like I want to see him shirtless, even though I really do.

"So what. If I always wear a shirt, nobody will know I have a farmer's tan," Jack explains.

"You're going to wear your shirt in the pool?"

"It's not a shirt. It's a rashguard."

I scoff and retort, "You're worried about getting a rash from the pool? Rashguards are for the beach."

"Did you know that you're really annoying? Like, the sound of you talking makes me want to rip my ears off," Jack says harshly.

"If you keep being an asshole, I'll rip 'em off for you," I reply, stepping down the stairs into the pool.

"Go ahead. And while you're at it you can suck my dick," Jack says in a possibly sarcastic tone.

"What dick? You mean your personality?"

"You already used that comeback," Jack says. He's right, and now I feel awkward.

"Goodbye," I say, swimming backwards while still facing him. I reach the deep end of the pool and dive underwater, staying down there for awhile. I love the peaceful feeling of slowly gliding along the bottom of the pool like a stingray, not using my muscles so I can last longer without breathing. I can hold my breath for a pretty long time. Tiny bubbles tickle my face as I let out some air, and I watch the images of the the surface of the water refracting the sunlight onto the pool floor. As relaxing as it is, you start to feel like you're slipping into another dimension after looking at it too long. I hear a splash and my body is being pulled up, while my mind is being pulled out of this trance. When I come to the surface, I gasp in the air and smooth my hair out of my face. Jack is looking at me in concern and I roll my eyes and laugh.

"I wasn't drowning, doofus. I like to hold my breath," I tell him. Now I notice his large hands holding my sides and his white t-shirt—oops, apparently it's a rashguard—clinging to his toned muscular body. My hands are on his biceps, which are huge. His hair is wet and stringy, some of it stuck to his face. Our chests are touching, both of them heaving as we catch our breaths. I feel a tingling sensation deep in my core. He drops his head backwards and sighs, revealing his Adam's apple and his sharp jawline, which is even more of a turn-on. When he looks back at me he seems annoyed.

"What is wrong with you? How the hell did you stay down there so long? I thought you were dying! I mean, how did you expect me not to think you were drowning?" He rambles, making me laugh. "It's not funny!" He says, causing me to laugh harder. "Fine. If it's that funny to you I'll make you drown for real," he says, and my eyes widen. I instinctively hold my breath and he pushes me down by my shoulders. I grip his shirt—sorry, I mean rashguard—and try to pull myself up, but he keeps holding me down. I panic and squeeze his hand tightly. He immediately pulls me up and I cough up water.

"Oh my god, I— I didn't mean to— are you okay?" He asks nervously. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder, breathing heavily. I feel his hands on my waist and his fast heartbeat on my chest, which doesn't help slow down my erratic breathing.

When I finally feel better I pull back and see Jack looking at me with a straight face. A smile creeps onto my face, and he furrows his brows.

"What?" he asks.

I laugh and move my hands to the tops of his shoulders. Then I push him down underwater, and he struggles to get me out of his way. He eventually grabs my thighs and pulls them down until I'm straddling his waist with my ankles crossed behind his back. He grabs my wrists and bursts out of the water, breathing hard. Jack flips his hair back with his head and looks at me strangely. We stay there like that for a while, with my legs around him and his hands on my wrists. Our bodies move together when he breathes, his rising and falling chest moving me up and down. This movement is almost like… no, Kim! Don't think about that! He's looking up at me, and his eyes flicker down to my chest in front of him. When he looks back up I smirk. He lets go of my wrists and I wrap them around his neck. My body starts sliding down his torso, but he stops me by holding me under my thighs. I furrow my eyebrows at him, and he puts one hand on my lower back. When I start to fall lower, he instinctively moves his hand down to my butt. I gasp, and both of our eyes go wide, but neither of us move. His hand is so big it almost covers my whole butt cheek. He slowly caresses it when he moves his hand back to my thigh.

"Um… sorry," he whispers.

"It's okay," I whisper back. Jack's cheeks are tinted pink and he pushes me off of him. He swims away and starts to get out of the pool, but when he looks down he immediately gets back in. I wonder why. It's like he's trying to hide something. I brush off that thought and swim towards him, and he looks at me uncomfortably.

"Wanna play Marco Polo?" I ask.

Jack lets out an exaggerated sigh and says, "Not really."

"You're it. Close your eyes," I say, swimming away.

Jack reluctantly closes his eyes and asks, "Marco?"

"Polo," I reply quietly. Jack walks towards me in the water with his hands out, floating on the surface.

"Marco?"

"Polo," I say right before diving underwater and swimming all the way to the end of the pool.

When I come up, Jack calls out, "Marco?"

"Polo," I whisper. Jack is getting close to me surprisingly fast. I try to swim towards the left side of the pool so I can get around him, but when he calls Marco I'm even closer to him than before. I reply, "Polo," and swim back to the deep end. Jack hears me, and swims towards me really fast. I'm trapped in the corner now, and if I try to escape on either side of Jack, I'll probably brush against him and lose.

"Marco?" Jack asks quietly, knowing he's close.

I whisper back, "Polo." Jack's hands find the edge of the pool on either side of my head and he gets _very_ close. I notice the water droplets making his eyelashes clump together and his sexy mop of wet hair and his pronounced pecs, with his nipples visible through the slightly transparent fabric of his rashguard. His warm, firm body finally presses mine into the wall, and he opens his eyes. Suddenly I'm drowning in two large black pools, surrounded by two thin rings of hazel.

"I win," he says in a low, husky voice. My hands subconsciously land on his bulging biceps again, while he delicately rests both hands on my face, caressing my cheeks with his calloused thumbs. We're both breathing heavily from all the swimming, which makes this whole situation even sexier. His gaze is flickering between my eyes and my lips. My heart is practically pounding out of my chest, and the butterflies in my stomach are more like bees. This is it: my first kiss. His eyes close and I follow his lead, our noses touch, his lips are brushing against mine, his hot breath is on my face…

* * *

 **A/N: I think you all know what's about to happen… or do you? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Any particular parts that you liked/disliked? Review and let me know! I'm trying to use symbolism without making it too obvious, so shoutout to anyone who analyzes it, even if you're wrong lol! Tell me what you think I was trying to portray! I'll be surprised if anyone gets it because it was pretty subtle. Or was it? Idk. Peace out homeslices :P**


	6. Chapter 6: Baggage

**A/N: Haven't been super motivated to write lately, but here's a short chapter for my readers. Do you like this story enough for me to keep writing? I know where it's going, and it's gonna be interesting and good, but I don't want to keep writing if only like 3 people actually like it. Well, actually, I'd still write for you guys, even if there aren't very many of you. Thank you so much to everyone who reviews. Without you I wouldn't even be updating.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

His warm, firm body finally presses mine into the wall, and he opens his eyes. "I win," he says in a low, husky voice. My hands subconsciously land on his bulging biceps again, while he delicately rests both hands on my face, caressing my cheeks with his calloused thumbs. His gaze is flickering between my eyes and my lips. This is it: my first kiss. His eyes close and I follow his lead, our noses touch, his lips are brushing against mine, his hot breath is on my face…

"Get off! Let me go! Please, don't hurt me!" I hear the words come out, and when they do, it brings me back to that moment.

 _It's dark. I'm staring down the barrel of a gun. A hooded man is holding a knife. Another one tackles me. The wind is knocked out of me and I can't breathe. Can't breathe. I'm on the gravel, punching and kicking. My hands are pinned to the ground. Can't move. Can't breathe._

"Just breathe. Look, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? You almost passed out; I had to hold you up. Focus on your breathing." Jack's voice soothes me and brings me back to reality. In this moment, my brain is empty. I'm anchoring myself in Jack's wide pupils. I follow his breathing. The tightness in my chest lessens. It takes me a while to form a coherent thought.

"I remember more. Someone had a gun aimed at me, and his friend tackled me, and I had the wind knocked out of me. I also remember someone with a knife. At least, it looked like a knife, but it was dark. I don't know what happened after that," I ramble on. Jack backs away from me slowly. He looks more distressed than he did the past two times this happened. He swims to the stairs without speaking.

"Why are you getting out?"

"Go home. We're done hanging out," he says without looking at me as he gets out of the pool.

I swim to the stairs and frown at him. "Jack, what's wrong? What did I do to set you off this time?" Jack doesn't respond. He wraps a towel around his broad shoulders and stares at the ground. "You're not going to explain why you want me to leave all of a sudden?"

"I don't owe you an explanation. We're not friends; we never will be. Go home and stay away from me," Jack orders, tossing me my towel.

"Jack, what did I do? I'm sorry."

"Get the hell out of my house. I'm not going to tell you again. I hate you, and you're extremely irritating. That's my explanation." His eyes are boring through me, his words pierce through me like bullets, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. What did I do that's so irritating? I have to remember what Milton said. I shouldn't pry at him. Right now he's upset, so questioning him won't get me any answers; I'll just provoke him even more. I wrap the towel around myself, grab my dress and my flip-flops, and leave without looking at him or saying anything.

Does he not want to be friends with me because of my PTSD, or whatever it is that makes me freak out on him? The first two times, he seemed surprisingly understanding. He was being supportive this time, too, until I told him what I remembered. What was it that freaked him out? Does he just not want to be friends with someone who carries so much baggage? Or is it the fact that I might be a rape victim, like I'm… damaged goods or something? That possibility—that someone took advantage of me—has been on my mind, weighing me down since the night Jack tutored me.

* * *

The rest of the day, I work out on the treadmill in the garage, binge watch _Friends_ , and do self care (girly things like painting my nails, taking a bubble bath, and tweezing my eyebrows). None of that has helped to take my mind off of what happened with Jack. Every time he gets close to me, I freak out. Will I ever be able to be in a relationship, even if it's not with Jack?

It's late now. Or should I say early? It's 3:27 AM. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. That memory just keeps playing in my mind on repeat. This is what I know about what happened so far: someone had their gun aimed at me, probably so I would cooperate when the other guy held me down. It was nighttime, because it was dark and the air was cold. We were outside, in an alley or something. I don't know what happened after the guy tackled me. The second time I had a flashback, when I was at school in the hallway, there was a sound so loud it made my ears ring. Did he fire his gun?

It seems like every time Jack and I are close, I remember something new. I know he told me not to try to remember, but I need to know what happened. If I don't find out, I might not be able to sleep until I die of exhaustion.

* * *

 **A/N: It was a short chapter, but lots of foreshadowing and some (attempted) symbolism. Ya, Jack said he never wants to see her again, but we all know it's not over between them. Trust me, good things are coming soon. But first bad things might happen. I'm giving away too much. Please review, I beg you, reviews are the only thing that make me update.**


	7. Chapter 7: Blood

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews! To show my gratitude, here is chapter 7: Blood.**

* * *

 _Tuesday morning_

"Good morning, honey. We're out of eggs so you're going to have to have cereal for breakfast," my mom says as I enter the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll make it," I say as I open the fridge to grab a carton of milk. After making a bowl of cereal, I sit at the table and stir the Frosted Flakes around with my spoon. I haven't had an appetite lately.

"Kim, why did you put the cereal box in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard?" my dad questions.

"I did that? Oops," I mutter.

"You're not thinking straight, Kim. It might be a good idea for you to stay home from school today," my mom says.

"Mom, I can go to school. I'm fine, I just didn't get much sleep last night because I was studying."

My mom sets a plate full of fresh fruit in front of me at the table, along with a smoothie. I pick at the food with my fork while she says, "I didn't know you have a test today. What class is it in?"

"Um, math."

My mom frowns and says, "I thought your math test was yesterday?"

"Did I say math? I meant chemistry."

My mom takes her seat next to me and folds her arms on the table. "What are you hiding, Kim? You know you can tell us anything. Something has been keeping you up at night, and it's not your schoolwork." Damn it! She knows me too well.

I bite a piece of honeydew melon off my fork just so she doesn't bother me for not eating enough. "Okay. The truth is… I've been staying up late at night binge watching Netflix."

My mom sighs and says, "Kim, I can tell there's something bothering you. I'm only asking because I want to help."

I stand up and grab my backpack. "I'm fine. I'll tell you if I need help, but right now, I'm fine. I can go to school."

* * *

"Kim, hello? Earth to Kim. Mrs. Proctor asked you a question." Someone is snapping in my face.

"Hmm? What?" I ask as I rub the drowsiness from my heavy eyelids. My response is met by a roomful of laughter. Milton is next to me. And other people in desks… oh god, I totally zoned out in class! Jack is in the back of the classroom. He looks concerned, confused… Nevermind, now he looks like he hates me again. I turn back to the front and the teacher is staring at me.

"Kim, do you need to go home? If you're not feeling well, you should go to the nurse."

"No, I'm fine!" Wow, that came out loud and harsh. I tone it down a bit when I add, "I'm fine. I'm sorry about that."

"If you're fine, then not paying attention was disrespectful. Detention on Friday after school." I'm too tired to care, so I just nod.

I manage to stay awake in class, but I can't function. While everyone is busy taking notes on Mrs. Proctor's lesson, I'm struggling to keep my head up and my eyes open.

* * *

"Kim, are you sure you're okay? You were out of it in math and you were zoning out just now," Milton says. We're in the cafeteria eating lunch, although I'm not eating. Apparently I fell asleep with my eyes open again.

"I'm fine. Just tired. I think I might go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face," I tell them, grabbing my backpack and standing up.

"You might want to go to the nurse. You could rest there until you feel better," Eddie suggests.

"Nah. Bye, guys." I walk to the bathroom, which is luckily empty, and wet my face with cold water. While my eyes are closed, I hear someone come in.

"Oh, look who it is. I heard you fell asleep in class. I feel so bad for you. That's embarrassing," she says. Ugh, it's Lindsay.

I stay bent over the sink while I reply, "You know what's embarrassing? The fact that you think I care."

"No, what's embarrassing is the fact that you think you have a chance with Jack."

I rip off a paper towel from the dispenser and pat my face dry. "Who's Jack again? You mean the guy you saw me with one single time a week ago?"

"I've seen you talking to him in the halls, too. He never seems like he wants to talk to you."

"Oh, like the way I don't want to talk to you?" I retort. She sneers at me and rolls her eyes.

"Look, bitch. Jack doesn't like you, and he never will, so give up on him," she growls.

I raise my eyebrows and scoff. "Are you talking to me or yourself? It sounds like you're the one who's into Jack."

While applying lipgloss, she says, "Every girl likes Jack. Since you're new here, I'm just trying to help you out. You shouldn't waste your time on him. He may be hot, but he's an asshole."

I scoff. "Thanks for your advice, but you're wrong. I'm not trying to date Jack, or hook up with him like you and every other girl at this school."

"Are you a lesbian?" she asks. Is she serious?

"It doesn't matter what I am. Straight or not, I'm not trying to get with Jack or any other guy or girl in this school. I have my friends and family, and that's all I need."

Lindsay sneers at me and says in a fake nice voice, "Are you sure that's all you need? You don't want to borrow some concealer to hide those dark circles under your eyes? Or how about a hairbrush? That messy bun is not a good look on you. You could also use a change of clothes. Yoga pants and a hoodie? You look like a mom."

I roll my eyes and laugh. "It's actually funny how shallow you are. I wish my life was easy enough that my biggest concern was looking cute at school."

Lindsay furrows her eyebrows at me and says, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you, like, mentally ill?"

I chuckle and as I leave the bathroom I reply, "Mind your own business. I get that you don't have a life, so you want to know about mine, but there are plenty of other girls who would be happy to share their drama with you."

* * *

 _Friday_

The past few days have been hell. I've never been so tired in my life. Practice at the dojo has been impossible for me to keep up with, and my parents are getting worried. I wish they didn't know me so well that they can tell something is seriously wrong with me. _I_ don't even know what's wrong with me. All I know is that I'd kill just to get ten minutes of sleep.

When the final bell rings, my relief only lasts about a minute, at which point I remember I have detention after school. I find the slip in my backpack and unfold it. Detention is in room 104. Luckily, it's right down the hall.

I'm walking down the hallway, but at the same time, I'm not. I feel like a hologram, like I'm just a brain living inside a stranger's body. Where am I? I've been walking for a while now, I think. Where am I going? Room 104. Oh, it's right here. When I walk into the classroom, the only person in here is coach Funderburk. He's in charge of detention? Great.

I sign in on the clipboard and take a seat in the very back corner, resting my head on the desk. While I rest my eyes, I hear a few more people come in. I finally look up to observe my surroundings after someone takes the seat right in front of mine.

It's Brody, the guy I punched. He's turned around in his seat to face me, but I ignore him. Jack is in here too; I wonder what he did. Sitting behind him is Lindsay, who is leaning forward and trying to talk to him. Mr. Funderburk stands up and says, "Detention starts now. I'm going to watch a sports program in the teacher's lounge. I want you all to stay here in miserable silence, and if you're not doing that when I get back, you'll get another detention." He walks out of the classroom and shuts the door behind him.

I'm about to rest my head on my arms again, but I notice that my sleeves are covered in blood. What the hell? I jump out of my seat and stand up, and when I look down, my clothes are also stained bright red. It's not my own blood, because I can't find a wound and I'm not in pain. "Oh god. Oh my god." Everyone is just staring at me. They don't seem to care that much; they're just looking at me like I'm an alien. "What is going on? Why isn't anybody worried?" Did I zone out and kill someone or something?

Jack stands up and starts walking towards me, revealing his blood-stained white T-shirt. He never wears white, or at least not in public. _Oh my god, Kim, the color of his shirt is not what you should be worried about right now!_ Blood is gushing from his side. "Oh my god. Jack, you're bleeding. You have to go to a hospital, you have to—"

"Kim, I'm fine," Jack says, stepping away from me.

"No, you need to get help, you're going to die!" I yell, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Don't worry about me. Go now, run, and don't look back," he orders.

"What? Why—"

"Listen to me! If you don't leave right now, both of us will die," Jack says, his voice breaking. "Go, run as fast as you can, and don't look back!"

For some reason, I listen to him and run out of the classroom, down the hall, out of the school, until my legs feel like jelly and I start to see black spots. Suddenly, everything is black.

* * *

 **A/N: Boy, that escalated quickly. What the frick frack is going on? The more reviews, the sooner I'll update.**


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets

**A/N: Here's a short chapter to explain what the heck was going on in the last chapter. Important A/N at the end!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

I wake up to the beeping of some kind of machine and fluorescent lights above me. Something warm is touching my hand. When I turn to look, they say, "Oh, Kim! You're awake!" It's my mom. My dad is next to her. They're both crying.

"Oh, my sweet Kimmy. We were so worried about you," he says.

"What happened?" I ask, hoping they know who shot Jack and that they arrested that asshole.

"You fainted at school. Malnutrition and sleep deprivation. Kim, you should have talked to us about this," my dad says.

"Yeah, honey. It's okay. An eating disorder is a hard thing to talk about, we understand that, but you should have told us—"

"Eating disorder? What are you guys talking about? Do you even know what happened before I fainted? Why my clothes were covered in blood?" I ask.

My parents glance at each other and look back at me with confusion. My mom leaves the room while my dad squints and asks, "Why were your clothes covered in blood, Kim?"

"Because someone got shot! They didn't tell you about this?" I question.

My dad shakes his head. My mom walks back into the room with a doctor with a stubbly beard and a cane. My dad says, "Kim, why don't you tell us what exactly happened before you passed out."

"I was in detention. I realized my clothes were covered in blood, but it wasn't my blood, because another kid got shot. He told me to run as fast as I could and not to look back, even though I wanted to help him, but he told me not to worry about him so I did what he said and ran outside. Do you know who shot him? Is he okay?"

The doctor replies in a gravelly voice, "Hallucinations are a common symptom of sleep deprivation."

"I didn't hallucinate it! He talked to me!" I say.

"Kim, your clothes are here, and they're all clean," my mom tells me.

"What? Well, I might have hallucinated the blood on my clothes, but I didn't hallucinate him talking to me. That was real. That had to be real," I say.

"Little girl, nobody was shot," the doctor tells me.

"What happened after I passed out?" I ask.

My mom replies, "Someone called 911 and stayed with you until the ambulance arrived."

"Who was it?"

"The paramedics said he left right when they arrived, so they didn't get a chance to talk to him," my doctor informs me. It must have been Jack. That sounds like something he'd do. "Now I need to ask your daughter a few questions in private, so I need you to leave," he says to my parents. This guy has awful bedside manner. They nod, smile at me, and leave the room. My doctor sits down and says, "Insomnia and loss of appetite are symptoms of depression. Here's a card for a psychologist," he says, handing me a small card with the psychologist's information on it. "I'm not allowed to tell your parents, you know, doctor-patient-confidentiality, but you should tell them. That is, if you ever want to get better. I don't think a 16 year old girl would be able to handle all that paperwork and money stuff for a brain doctor all by herself. Also, don't self medicate, unless you want to make it worse and add addiction to your list of problems." He pulls a pill container out of his jacket pocket, pops a couple pills into his mouth, stands up with the support of his cane, and leaves. How has this guy not been fired?

* * *

I'm finally home. It's Monday morning. I had to stay at the hospital over the weekend so they could tube-feed me nutrients to get me back to health. I have no idea how I'm going to get myself to fall asleep. I told my parents I was staying up at night watching Netflix. I didn't take the doctor's advice, so my parents think I'm all better now. They gave me this whole talk about how I should have a positive body image and how I looked better before I started 'starving myself.' I went along with it and said I'd start eating again. A week ago I'd tell them everything, but now... I feel like I'm on my own.

My parents made me stay home from school today, and this time I didn't argue. Going to school, interacting with people, focusing in class… I just don't have the energy or the motivation to do it. The gang asked to visit me at the hospital, but I told them not to come because I didn't feel well. I really just didn't want to explain what was wrong with me. I'm hoping I can avoid that conversation and they'll just forget about it.

I'm extremely bored. Watching Netflix is not enough to keep my mind off everything. The thought that keeps tormenting my brain is the hallucinations I had during detention. It all felt so real. Jack's words are still ringing through my ears; I can hear him telling me to run and to never look back. I can still see all the blood, the vibrant red blood flowing from the bullet wound on his side, staining his white T-shirt. Why would I hallucinate that? Did it have anything to do with my memories?

I need to stop thinking about this. I need something to calm the storm of incoherent thoughts in my mind. I feel so on edge yet so lethargic; I'm bored but I have no motivation to do anything. Lately I've been thinking that it would be easier if I just stopped existing. This is another piece of advice from that doctor that I'm going to ignore: I'm going to find drugs.

* * *

 **It's getting kind of dark, I know. Kick moments coming up soon, I promise!**

 **Question: are any of my readers sensitive to content including violence, suicide, mental illness, substance abuse, etc? That's not what the story is all about, but there might be some realistically dark scenes that are important for character development.**

 **Shoutout to Vicky2015 for catching that Kim was hallucinating! Also shoutout to all my other reviewers!**

 **If anyone can guess who this doctor is, he's from a different show, but he is hilariously sarcastic.**


	9. Chapter 9: Message in a Bullet

**A/N: Some dark content in this chapter. Also lots of cussing and use of the F-word.**

 **Cue _Watch Me Bleed_ by Tears For Fears. Seriously, the lyrics relate to this so well. I'd recommend listening to that song while reading this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

I'm currently in Jack's house, looking through the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. I had no luck at my own house, because my parents don't drink alcohol and I don't want to try to get high off NyQuil. There's nothing in his bathroom, so I'm going to check in his room. I open his nightstand drawer, and jackpot! There are a bunch of orange pill containers, prescribed to different people. Jack stole drugs from people? Who am I to judge? I'm stealing his drugs! I grab one bottle, and it appears that the label was ripped off. I press and twist the cap to open it, and inside is a rolled up note that says:

 _Molly/pure MDMA crystals: cut into a fine powder to snort, take no more than 0.2g at a time. Effects: enhanced sense of well-being, increased extroversion, emotional warmth, empathy toward others, willingness to discuss emotionally-charged memories, warped sense of time, enhanced sensory perception._

That sounds nice. Actually, that sounds like a drug Jack should take.

Under the note are several small rock crystals that are a pinkish-white color. I put the note back in the bottle, close the lid, and shove it in my jacket pocket.

The garage door opens. Oh boy, I have to go. Why is Jack home so early? Or is it his parents? When I get halfway down the stairs, I can hear the garage door closing, and the door that leads to the garage opens. I sprint upstairs and go back into Jack's room, hiding behind his door and mentally scolding myself for choosing such a stupid hiding place. Someone is coming upstairs. Down the hallway. Into Jack's room. It's Jack. God, he's so hot, even just from behind. He drops his backpack on the floor, flops onto his bed, kicks off his shoes, and rolls onto his side so he's facing away from me. Is he sleeping? I tiptoe out from behind the door, but the dang floorboards creak and Jack sits up and turns around immediately.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Jack yells.

"You're home from school early. Uhh… surprise?" I say, forcing a smile. "I came here… to tell you happy birthday!"

Jack stands up and shakes his head, squinting his eyes. "It's not my birthday. You were here before I got home. I would've heard you breaking into my house. What the _fuck_ were you doing in my room?" Jack has never been more intimidating. He's stalking towards me, making me back out of his doorway.

"Well, you see, I was setting up your surprise party, and… whoops, silly me, I forgot the decorations!" I say, putting all of my willpower into forcing a smile and an awkward laugh.

Jack shakes his head again, still getting closer until I back into the wall on the other side of his hallway. "Cut the crap. You better tell me the fucking truth right now," he growls.

"Or else?" My voice quivers against my own accord.

Barely above a whisper, Jack says, "I'll call the cops on you for breaking and entering. And trust me, I'm not bluffing."

"Okay, do it. Call the cops. But first, I just need to ask you… Why do you hate me so much?"

Jack rolls his eyes and takes a step away from me. "You're annoying as hell. I told you I never wanted to see you again, and here you are. Why won't you just fucking leave me alone?"

"Why won't you let me be your friend? It's like you don't want to be happy. What's the point of life if you're alone, you're never happy, and surround yourself with douchebags?" Now I'm getting worked up.

Jack looks at the ground, takes another step back, and growls, "Go. Just leave."

"Seriously. What happened to you that fucked you up so bad? I mean, I might be going crazy at this point, but the way _you_ go through life is no way to live."

Jack scoffs. "Oh, _I'm_ fucked up? What about you? This whole past week you've been totally out of it, you've lost weight, you were fucking _high_ in detention—"

"I wasn't high! I was hallucinating, yes, but not because I was high. When I went to the hospital, they said it was from sleep deprivation," I tell him.

"It's not my fault you're not going to bed on time," Jack retorts.

"Actually, it is your fault. It's your fault I that have insomnia, that I have no appetite, that I question whether life is even worth living. It was Saturday night, after you told me that I'm annoying and you never wanted to see me again, all because of my baggage and my past, that all of this fucked up shit started happening to me," I yell.

"None of this is my fault. If you hadn't tried to be my 'friend,' we'd both be better off," Jack shouts.

"You're right. I shouldn't have wasted my time on you. I thought you might be different, but that was naive of me," I say.

"Great, we're both on the same page. Now get the _fuck_ out of my _fucking_ house before I make you!" Jack yells, making me squeeze my eyes shut. When I open my eyes, Jack is pointing down the stairway and pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed to show his irritation and impatience.

"Okay," I mutter, swallowing the lump in my throat and blinking away the tears before jogging down the stairs and out of his house. All of the thoughts are coming back. I hate my thoughts. It's like I'm watching my own brain think them, and someone has me tied down in front of a screen, and they're holding my eyelids open and forcing me to watch the chaos that is my mind.

 _Jack hates me;_ _I don't have anyone to talk to; they wouldn't understand; the only one who could understand is Jack, and he hates me;_ _I was most likely raped; the_ _fact that I don't remember it means it was so traumatizing that my brain blocked it out to protect my sanity;_ _I'm not sure I even have my sanity anymore; my_ _body doesn't feel like my own;_ _I'm living in a stranger's mind and body; nothing_ _that happens to me is really happening; nothing_ _feels real; nothing_ _is real. Life has no purpose. Life is pain and suffering, and it never ends. The blood keeps spilling. It will never end, until I die. I'm bleeding out. Can't I just run out of blood already?_

 _Blood all over my clothes._

 _Blood all over Jack._

 _Blood everywhere._

The hallucinations replay in my mind, but this time it's different.

 _Jack is on the floor, lifeless, blood pooling by his side. I pull my shirt up to reveal a deep hole in my abdomen. I reach my fingers in and pull out a bullet. It says something in fine print. I hold up the small metal object to my eyes and wipe away the blood to reveal the message engraved on the side: SAVE ME, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE._

I really need to get high.

* * *

 **A/N: It's funny how right when things start to make sense, it gets confusing again. Everything will come together and make sense in the end; I promise.** **The next chapter will probably be intense, even though I'm not the best at writing intense scenes.**

 **Review! Give me your honest opinion, criticize me, compliment me, tell me to update soon, tell me my story is a piece of trash, I just want to know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10: Powder and Pills

**A/N: This chapter is short but heavy. I write a lot faster and a lot more when you review, so if you want me to update, telling me to update actually does make me update faster.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

I was going to do some research on this drug before taking it, but at this point I don't care what the side effects are. I'm at my desk with a razor blade that I took out of a razor (don't worry, it was fresh from the package and I haven't used the razor before, so it's clean) and the bottle full of little rock crystals. I take one out and put it on a plate, where I slice a piece off. I have to lean back when I notice my own teardrops are landing on the plate, and I don't want to get the drugs wet. I have to wipe my eyes every now and then when my vision gets blurry. I cut it into smaller and smaller pieces until it's a fine powder, and when I'm done, I have to take a moment to catch my breath. After a few hiccups and coughs I finally slow down my breathing so it's steady enough that I can snort the light pink powder. I grab a tissue and blow my nose, and it takes a lot more than one tissue to clear my nose out, but when I'm done, I scoop a small amount of the fine powder onto the edge of the blade, hold it under my nose, plug one nostril, and inhale sharply. I wince at the sharp pain so high in my nose I feel like it's in my brain, and I start coughing. When I swallow I notice a horrible taste in my mouth, and now I feel something wet dripping on my lip. I wipe it off with my finger, and it's blood. This was a bad idea. I have no idea what I just put in my body, and it's making me bleed! I close the lid on the bottle and shove it in my pocket. When I stand up, a gentle wave of pleasure crashes against me, and I feel calmer.

"Fuuuuuuck!" I hear a loud yell, and when I look out of my window, Jack is pulling his hand out of the wall. Did he just punch a hole in his own wall? He cradles his bloody hand, slumps down on the edge of his bed, grabs a pillow, and holds it against his face. I hear a muffled yell and his body starts to shake. After about a minute, he sets the pillow down and rubs his hands on his face and runs them through his hair. He sits up straight, opens his nightstand drawer, and starts taking out pill containers. He opens each one and pours all the pills on the surface of his nightstand. He takes a water bottle off his nightstand and opens it, pops a handful of pills into his mouth, and drinks them down with water. And then he does it again. And again. And again.

"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs, but he doesn't hear me. "Jack! Stop!"

He's trying to overdose. "Jack! No!"

This is my fault. If I hadn't said those things, he wouldn't be doing this. "Stop, please," I cry.

I can physically feel my heart breaking."No!" I choke on my own sobs and struggle to breathe. My heart is pounding, my room is spinning around me, I feel weak and dizzy.

He can't die. Jack can't die. I have to do something. I can't let him die. I hope it's not too late for me to save him.

* * *

 **A/N: I want so badly to analyze my own story and to point out all the symbols and literary devices, but I'll let you guys connect the dots. I tried to make this chapter intense but not too intense. Idk if that worked out. I've never done drugs but I did a lot of research even though I doubt any of you have done Molly lol. If you have tell me! And tell me if I portray it accurately lol.**

 **If you like Hooked on a Feeling more than this story, or you just want me to update that one, review on it. I'm still waiting for suggestions on that one.**

 **Btw I know it seems dark, but you can't have a rainbow without the rain (idk if that's the saying, but that's what I'm saying lol).**


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